


Mt. 8

by paperclown



Series: Stellar Collision [1]
Category: GOT7
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 22:21:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4804364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperclown/pseuds/paperclown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark Tuan is a soldier on leave and meets Jackson Wang, who is one half of a singer-songwriter duo and currently working out the slump he is in in an off-the-beaten-road sojourn to nowhere. They meet at Mt. 8 when Jackson in one unexplained inspired whim, decides to fall face flat into the lake. Mark who had been in the woods absorbed in quiet contemplation jumps in after he sees Jackson not emerge after close to two minutes. Thereafter begins a relationship that neither realized was possible in their life. Like a clash of two silent stars, a supernova, a new star.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mt. 8

Late autumn. The woods are quiet and a rich palette of varying golds. Not immune to the odd brand of humor that leaves most puzzled, Mark finds wry amusement in the idea of the "sickeningly quiet boy" leaving for the army at eighteen and now finding comfort in the quiet womb of the woods on his days of leave. Was the army quiet? Were the battlefields quiet? Is he still sickeningly quiet now in the silent woods? How does he answer that? Or maybe these questions didn’t need answering.

Joining the army was easy. It suited him. A command came down from above and things got done. Life was led at the concrete level of actions and quantified in a long series of motions that had tangible cause and effect. Yet, when the vulnerabilities that were flesh and blood occurred one time too many, Mark could not help but wonder, at the personal level, the futility of such a lifestyle. He resisted the urge to touch the latest scar on his side. Instead, he dragged his thoughts to that of B., the soldier who was in his platoon and now no longer is. Hardly anyone emerged from that blast unscathed. They were ambushed and B., being the closest to the IED took home the largest injury. Mark had a scar; B. had a paralyzed half of his body. 

These thoughts were useless, Mark knew it. Every soldier knew what they were signing up for when they joined the army. Perhaps it was coming back home to find how different now the lives of the people he loved and cared for were that sparked this train of thought. Perhaps it was seeing his best friend now married with a baby girl in his arms, no longer lanky but still with that same loud boisterous voice he had known since fourteen, and asking, “So when are you coming back for good, my friend? Haven’t you had enough?” He did not know. What did he have enough of? 

Or perhaps it was knowing that his niece was now in middle school and using a language that sounded very much like English but not so much either. Or perhaps, perhaps, it was watching his parents move about in their house and hardly recognizing the people who had once chased him round the house for his homework anymore. Or perhaps, perhaps…

The rustle of the leaves in the wind and the crunch of twigs under his boots were not enough of a response to help him in his thoughts. He paced towards the lake in the woods, the huge shimmering mirror like a beckoning call towards his pensive mood. A mist seemed to have gathered across the lake at the further end, obscuring the deep and dark reflections of red, gold, and blue. Nearer though, there was a man in a rather expensive-looking cashmere coat standing by the edge of the platform, appearing to deeply contemplate his reflection in the water. Considering that this was a lake atop a table mountain by which the only way up was by foot, Mark considered the man to be rather ill-dressed. Though, it was entirely possible that there was a photo-shoot going on elsewhere in the woods and Mark didn't know any better because what did he know about fashion or looking good? He remembered once being quite perplexed when coming across a picture of a model in a ball gown sprawled boneless in a trash dumpster. Maybe dress shoes were made more comfortable since he last tried them. It wasn’t important, anyway, Mark thought. Then, just as Mark was ready to leave the man to his silent commune with his reflection, the man falls, dropping face first into the lake, his coat and shoes still on. 

Maybe not understanding was an understatement, Mark remarked quietly. 

He glanced around and saw nobody else in the vicinity. If it wasn't for the ripples still expanding outwards, Mark might thought he dreamt it all. He looked at his watch; twenty more seconds to a minute. What were the odds, really, he wondered. Mark stripped off his jacket as he walked briskly towards the platform, watching for signs of movement underwater. Yet, the lake remained quiet and the ripples were still quite undisturbed. Another glance at his watch; one minute and forty seconds had elapsed now. And so, Mark jumped.

*

Of artists, it would be easily agreed on that ‘capricious’ is one of the most handy terms to understand them. Well, when Henry said ‘understand’, he meant it more for the investors and in the most placating of manner because god help him when his artists have gone and fuck things up again. Because in all good honesty, and according to Jackson especially, there was nothing that Henry understood about art or artists. He was just the manager slash businessman who decided that he knew better, “Because really, Jackson, why don’t you go back to writing those easy-to-understand songs? A simple AABA song, yes? All these messy synths are not selling, boy. They are a mess!” 

‘Messy synths, huh,’ thought Jackson bitterly. Well, if he wanted to sell out, he would. 

Standing by the edge of the platform, he glanced out into the lake. Its beguiling calm and serene coldness reminded him of the second movement of Schubert’s string quartet no. 14. The strings that lament the horror of death, sing the comfort of death, and whisper the destiny of every living thing, the inevitability of it all… It was haunting. He leaned forward, staring down at his reflection in the water. It would be like falling into an embrace, he thought. Back into the start, back into darkness, back into nothingness. And he leaned. 

It was wet, cold, and calm. He felt enveloped by a deep peace he could never reach even with sleeping aids. And so he let himself fall further, his eyes shut, body lax and completely limp. He could hear the water bubbling in his ear and within him, the gentle refrain of Schubert. There was no helping the smile that came unbidden to his lips. It was almost magical, Jackson thought, as images of himself flying in the skies above, freely floating, unhindered, and wild came running through his head. That is, until he felt a harsh tug at the collar of his shirt, and then arms around his chest, pulling him up and up away from his aquatic flight of fancy. 

He spluttered as he broke the surface for air, and before he could turn around to make sense of what was happening, he felt himself being hauled back up to the platform from which he fell. 

A deep voice sounded behind him. “Are you okay?”

Turning on his knees, Jackson saw a man in a blue-green check shirt looking at him concernedly. Many possible responses went through Jackson’s head, of which a great number of them were mostly annoyed in tone and only varying in different grades of politeness. But eventually, Jackson decided he couldn’t bother. He turned away, got to his feet, and started stripping, toeing off his shoes and then pulling his socks, all while keeping up a low and constant muttering because not responding to a question did not mean he had nothing to say, thank you very much. “I mean, thanks, but no thanks, dude. I actually do know how to swim, you know. I mean what decade is this? Who doesn’t know how to swim? And oh god, my coat! Why, oh just why did I think it was a good idea? At least take off your damn coat first, Jackson. Gosh, you are so smart. No wonder your synth beats are messy…”

Mark watched the stranger strip off his wet clothes down to that one single layer, unsure if the snippets of muttering he caught were meant for him or not, or if he should try to say something again. Then suddenly, the man dropped down to a squat, his arms going around himself as he shivered violently. “Gods, I’m fucking cold,” Mark heard him say.

Shaking off the excess water from his hair, Mark picked up the jacket he left behind earlier and placed it on the shaking shoulders. “Can you walk?” he asked. 

The man laughed bitterly, and then in a screeching voice, “Can I walk, he asks! Can I walk! Can I fucking walk?! I was fucking flying earlier until you pulled me up, you mother fucker. Of course I can walk!” He got to his feet again, but no sooner than two steps, he fell back down to the ground. “Shit, it’s so cold!” 

There was no way about it, then, Mark thought. He grabbed the soggy coat, clothes, and shoes, bundled them up, and shoved the entire pile into the man’s arms. Then, without a second word, with one hand under the man’s knees and the other around his shoulders, Mark lifted him up and began walking. 

“Hey, oh my god, put me down! The fuck are you doing?!” 

Mark tightened his hold on the squirming man. “You are soaked wet, cold, and you can’t walk further than two steps. Unless you want to die of hypothermia, I suggest you stop moving so that I can walk us back down the mountain before that happens.” 

Jackson turned silent at that but was unable to contain the shivers. The man’s jacket was warm and dry and the collar was lined with fleece. Jackson huddled deeper into the jacket however much he could while being carried in the man’s arms. The jacket smelled of cedar and sandalwood, sparking the memory of a cologne he once was given but never often used. He could not remember why now. 

He heaved the scent in deeply, feeling the warmth of the man’s arms surround him like ropes of burning fire. 

“Hey, you shouldn’t sleep,” Mark said as he shook his bundle a little. “What’s your name?” 

The deep voice rumbled in the man’s chest and Jackson could feel it against his clammy skin. He pulled the jacket collar tighter around him. “I’m Jackson. What’s yours?”

“I’m Mark.”

“Hmm.”

“Hey, hey! Hey Jackson,” said Mark as he watched those eyelids shutter slowly again. “What were you doing up there just now?” Then, because if polite conversations were going to be this boring, “Were you trying to kill yourself?”

A shiver passed through Jackson again. “No, I wasn’t trying to kill myself,” he said slowly, annoyance clearly dripping on every word. “Why kill myself in a lake? Who does that?! My body will be so bloated and ugly. And imagine the state of my hair when they fish out my body! And my coat! Oh, my coat… Do you know how much this coat costs? Oh my god, I’m so stupid.” 

“So you weren’t trying to kill yourself when you jumped in.” 

“That’s what I said. Gosh, you are slow, aren’t you?” Jackson looked up in irritation. The tirade ready at the tip of his tongue was swallowed though when Jackson saw the droplets of water dripping down Mark’s hair. It hadn’t occurred to him that someone else might be feeling what he had just experienced. It wasn’t that Jackson was grossly self-absorbed. Though, to be fair, he _needed_ to be self-absorbed for his art. But oftentimes, Jackson had always felt an insurmountable gap between what he was feeling and what others might be feeling towards a same event. It came to the point where he stopped trying to pretend for the sake of being social but retreated more into his inner world in bid to better understand and articulate himself. This however, mostly resulted in Jackson coming across as insensitive. Yet, nothing was further from the truth than that.

Jackson, not caring that he was currently being hoisted about a meter and a half above ground, shifted his body, trying to remove the jacket from his shoulders in order to return it to Mark. “Aren’t you cold? Oh gosh, you must be,” Jackson said, as he then started rambling to himself again. “Of course he is cold, you idiot! You’ve taken his jacket and he went in after you. Shit, I’m sorry!” 

Mark gripped Jackson tighter as the latter started to squirm in his arms. “Shh, stop moving, Jackson. I’m fine and will be fine if you don’t make this any more difficult than it already is. We are almost there now.”

“We are?” Jackson asked, his eyes comically large and his arms frozen in trying to pull the jacket out from under Mark’s arms. 

“Yes, we are,” Mark said, and bent backwards a little to cradle his burden tighter. “Did you come by car? Do you know of any place you can go from here?”

“I… No, I came by taxi. I… The Ritz?”

There must have been moments in his life more worthy, but at this point, Mark could think of no other more dumbfounding than this. Not even his niece came close, it would seem. 

“No, look,” Jackson said quickly, having saw that look on Mark’s face. “Let me explain. I’m on this weird trip where I try to live in the moment, you know? My whole life has been about looking forward, which is good, I know. We should all look forward, build dreams, future, etc., etc. But how do you continue when you look forward and see nothing? You can’t, right? It’s crazy because I see nothing, not even a dream now. I don’t know anymore. Where am I going to? Where is forward? Do you understand?

“So I took some time off and decided that since I can’t see what’s forward anymore, I’m going to live completely in the present. And so when I heard about the lake up on this mountain during breakfast, I thought, okay, I’m going to come up here today. And so I did.”

“And when you saw the lake…”

“I saw that it was beautiful and I just wanted to… I don’t know, submerge and become one with that beauty?” 

“You are an odd one, Jackson.”

The said man laughed, a sound not quite unlike a hyena’s screech in Mark’s honest opinion. “I am!” Jackson agreed heartily. “What about you? What were you doing up here all alone? And did you really think I was trying to kill myself?”

“No, I couldn’t tell if you were trying to kill yourself or not,” Mark said. “For all I know, you might have been feeling unwell and accidentally fell into the lake.”

“Ah, you are boring.”

“I am,” Mark said laughingly, echoing Jackson’s reply from earlier. “But luckily for you, you don’t have to deal with me for much longer. There’s my car. Come on.” 

He stopped in front of a silver Lexus. “How are you feeling now?” 

“Better,” Jackson replied. “You are warm. You can let me down now.” Having got on his feet, he kept a hand on Mark’s arm and took in the make of the car and the shine of the hood. “Nice car. Was expecting something more rugged from you.”

Mark laughed. “It’s not mine. I’m just borrowing my father’s car right now.”

“Ah…” Jackson said comprehendingly. 

Mark took out a hoodie and a pair of track pants from a bag in the boot. “Here, change into this. They are clean.”

Jackson took them and went into the car to change. Mark on the other hand, was stripping off methodically outside the car. From the backseat, Jackson caught sight of a body that was lean and ripped, an unexpected sight considering the slight build of the man’s body. Then again, Jackson had no idea why he was surprised when this was the man who had carried him down a mountain in what must be fifteen minutes, and all without showing signs of exertion.

In a simple white tee and blue jeans, Mark climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine. Jackson climbed into the front as well, not caring to be delicate in his actions at all. He settled in, buckled his seat belt, and leaning towards the man who was now watching him with amusement, Jackson kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.” 

Mark was a little surprised but his eyes were smiling (and in what Jackson would soon start to recognize as the prelude of fondness and exasperation). “Do you go around kissing strangers to thank them, Jackson?” 

“No, just the handsome ones.”

Mark shook his head, bemusedly. “And I can’t tell you how dangerous that is, mister. So,” he said as he backed the car out of the lot. “Where should I drop you off? The Ritz, you said?” 

“Yea, I want to check out, get my clothes, and send this coat back home. Or maybe I should throw it away?” He fingered the wet wool in his hand, a pout on his face. “I really like this one a lot.” 

“Well maybe you should have thought it through before jumping into the lake.”

Jackson heaved a loud sigh. “Where are we going after that?”

“What?”

“After the Ritz. Can we go get dinner? Or actually, you know what, there’s this hot spring nearby. Do you want to go?”

There was a slight frown on Mark’s face. “You are asking if I want to go with you...”

“Woo, you are a really slow one, Markie. But you move so fast, that’s so odd. I mean, I took almost an hour to get up to that lake.” 

Mark kept silent at that, not wanting to tell Jackson that maybe the real oddity was on his side of the fence or that maybe Mark wasn’t really the one moving fast here. 

“Look,” Jackson continued. “You were up on that mountain alone, as was I. You are looking for a distraction, aren’t you? I suppose I am too. Distraction from what, though, I’m not sure. But I’m starting to do things that do not make sense, things that separate me from what normal people might call ‘living’. And it’s the same with you, isn’t it? Unless you really wanted to be alone with just your own thoughts? Because if so, then you really do need the distraction. Stay in your own head too much and you’ll go crazy. I know that.”

He glanced at the side profile of the man driving. “Besides, you saved me and I think there’s something about stories like that where I have to sleep with you to thank you or something.”

Mark took his eyes off the road to stare at Jackson. “What?”

Jackson pushed Mark’s head back to face the road. “I don’t want to die now, please. And what do you mean ‘what’? You are not adverse; I know that when I kissed you just now. And well…” Jackson twiddled his fingers. “I saw you when you were changing and I think you are pretty hot.”

At that, Mark shook his head and laughed out loudly, a merry sound that was drenched in heavy disbelief. “I think today has to be the oddest day of my life and considering my life, it has to be saying something.” 

Jackson smiled smugly. “So? Hot springs?”

Mark chuckled. “Given your argument so far, I don’t see why not, Jackson.”

“Great!”

*

The car pulled up at the lobby of the Ritz. “You sure you don’t want to come up to wait? Have a shower or something?” Jackson asked. 

“Nah.”

“Alright. Come here and give me a kiss then.” 

Mark smiled and leaned over to lightly kiss those pouting lips. “See you later.”

Jackson grinned and stepped out of the car. With a spring in his steps, he bounded up to the front desk. “Hi!” he greeted cheerfully as he laid out the soggy remnants of his wallet on the table. “I had a slight accident just now. Fell into a pool and all that and I’m not sure now if the key card will still work. Can I get a new one?” 

“I’m sorry to hear you fell into the pool,” the receptionist said sympathetically. “Of course you can get a new one, Mr. Shee. Just give me a minute.” 

Meanwhile, Jackson was staring at the stubborn blank screen of his phone that refused to power up. He sighed heavily. ‘Well, at least they can’t bother me at this number now’, he thought. “Were there any messages left for me today?” 

“There was a man calling to look for Jackson Wang. Per your instructions, we have told him that no such person has checked in at our hotel.”

“Did he leave his name?”

“Yes, I believe it was… give me a moment,” the receptionist said as she flipped through the notebook. “Ah yes, it was a Mr. Henry Lau. He said to call him should Jackson Wang checked into the hotel and that it was urgent.”

“Well, I’m not Jackson Wang, am I?”

“That you most certainly are not, Mr. Shee,” the receptionist said as she placed the new card in front of him. “Your new card, Sir. Hope you have a pleasant evening.” 

“Thank you, Linda,” Jackson said, winking cheekily. 

*

Jackson stepped into his suite, kicked off his shoes, and plopped face straight into the bed. The linen smelled fresh and clean and was soft against his skin. This lightness though, was a stark contrast to the strange feeling that was bubbling within him. He felt wild, afraid, like something was about to burst at the seams of his skin. Jackson was quite sure if he checked, his hands would still be shaking. It was infuriating, he thought, this painful itch in the center of his heart. He wanted to, no, needed to sink into something and to just completely be. He thought about when he fell into the lake this afternoon, that overwhelming sense of peace only to be interrupted by someone pulling him up by the scruff. 

This someone… Mark. Jackson wanted him, irrationally. He didn’t know a thing about this man except that Jackson really wanted to get back at him for disturbing his peace and that Mark was really good looking and probably worked out often. For all Jackson knew, Mark could be a really dangerous man. And wasn’t that what Mark himself had warned Jackson about? But Jackson had played weak and was lifted up into his arms like he weighed nothing. (And Jackson knew he certainly did not weigh like nothing, especially not with the body he was required to keep!) Jackson had taken a kiss and was allowed. Jackson had asked for a kiss and was given one. Jackson had sauntered into Mark’s space like it was Jackson’s to start with and that man had just smiled. And yes, perhaps precisely so that Mark really was a dangerous man; because nobody had ever given in to Jackson’s whims this easily and Jackson was near quickly becoming addicted. 

‘Why would this person even exist,’ Jackson thought illogically. He padded lightly to the windows and peeked through the curtains. His room was facing the mountain and he couldn’t tell if Mark was still downstairs or not. “Would he still be waiting?” Jackson wondered aloud. He reached into his bag and pried out a box and a slim bottle. He tossed both items on the bedside table and took up his key card again. “Carpe diem, Jackson, carpe diem!” 

*

Jackson came down into the lobby wearing the bedroom slippers the hotel had provided. His shoes were still wet and he could not remember if he packed his own slippers or not. He ran his fingers back and forth over the edges of the plastic card as he walked towards the waiting bay. The silver Lexus was no longer there, but standing by the ashtray in the corner was Mark. He was wearing the jacket Jackson had first borrowed at the lake, the one with the fleece collar and that had smelled like cedar and sandalwood. Though, Jackson thought it would probably smell like lake water and cigarettes right now. 

“I didn’t think you were the smoking type,” Jackson said, as he came up to the man leaning by the pillar.

Mark chuckled. “I’m not. I nicked this off a man who was trying to follow you with his huge ass camera.”

“What?” Jackson scowled. “Where is he now?”

“Security came by and chased him away. The memory cards are with me now. What do you want to do with them?”

“I don’t care. Break them, burn them, do whatever you want with them. I don’t care.”

Mark looked at the features of Jackson’s face set in an angry line and felt a moment of regret for only nicking the photographer’s cigarettes. He brushed the sides of Jackson’s lips gently with his thumb, trying to coax a smile. “So are you ready to go or has there been a change of plans?”

“How’d you know?!” Jackson asked in what appeared to be genuine shock.

Mark smirked and looked pointedly at his feet. 

Jackson wriggled his toes, laughed, and threw his arms around Mark’s neck. “Oh god, you are really handsome and really smart! What am I going to do with you?!” Feeling a hand go round his waist, Jackson nuzzled into the long muscular neck. “Come up with me. There’s a Jacuzzi in the room and I haven’t even got to use it yet.”

“Hmm?” Mark took a last drag of his cigarette and stubbed it in the ashtray. “I’m starting to think you are a very dangerous man and that I should be more careful.” 

Jackson laid a kiss on the sharp lines of that jaw. “Funny that. I was just thinking the exact same of you.” 

*

The door shut and at once, Jackson was pulled back into the taut, broad chest he was burrowing into a few hours ago. There was no hesitation at all in their actions as lips met, immediately, and painfully. Hands ran up and slid back down, fingers reaching, tugging and pushing. Jackson groaned as he felt warm hands reach under his hoodie to run up his sides, up his chest, down into his pants, then his back, and then the nipples, oh his nipples! “Oh god, do that again, please!”

Mark bit lightly at that supple neck that was currently stretched out in a long delicious line and pushed the hoodie up, trying to take it off him. Jackson, feeling feverish, tried desperately to help but faltered when he felt a tongue on his nipples again, clearly one of the most sensitive areas of his body. He moaned deeply and dug his fingers into that head of dark hair, feeling a slight dampness that must have been lake water on his hands. “Mark, Mark!” he whispered urgently. “Clothes off, please!” He pulled at the cotton tee Mark was wearing. “There’s just too many, too much… I want to touch you, please!”

Mark pushed back from the wall he had crowded Jackson into and without so much as a second thought, dropped his jacket and started pulling off his white tee. Jackson, torn now between wanting to watch and to rid himself of his own clothes, hastily pushed down both his pants and briefs. Stepping out of them, he reached forward for the button on Mark’s jeans, salivating at the feel of his prize beneath his fingers. Then, before he could reach for more, Jackson felt himself shoved back against the wall and his hoodie harshly pulled away from him. His hair was a complete mess now and Jackson didn’t know if he cared very much for that as he usually might. He was naked and his skin felt achingly hot and there was a man standing in front of him with half undone jeans and Jackson could only pant heavy with want, want, want – 

So much that it hurts, because here was man who might have just latched onto his very soul with simply a pout and a personal brand of oddity, and Mark did not think he could breathe anymore nor very well if he did not completely have this person right now. He yanked his zipper and pushed both his jeans and boxers down at once, stepping out of his shoes and socks in record time – 

And Jackson pounced, jumping up on the now naked man (finally!), feeling their skin flush hot against each other. Strong arms caught him by the thighs and Jackson leaned down, kissing the man, needing to taste him again, again, breathe him again, again. To consume, to possess, to want, so madly, badly; no, there was so much he wanted, so much he needed, and – 

Mark hefted him higher and in three quick steps, dropped them both right down in the middle of the soft plush bed Jackson was earlier lazing on. Jackson could cry if he wasn’t so overcome with lust; the weight of Mark on him and between his legs was perfect. It felt like the heavy barrels of a solid steel lock being set into place, the contents of the safe that was Jackson’s entire being finally secured with this missing piece laying atop him, kissing him, touching him. Jackson reached out and pull the man tighter into him, trying urgently to merge the lines of existence between them. “Please, please,” Jackson whispered, as he felt his entire body rise up to meet wherever Mark’s tongue was. “Please…”

Jackson heard the tell-tale snap of the bottle cap and spread his legs wider in invitation. “Please,” he moaned, mindless now with want. “Mark…”

Mark rubbed the lube with his fingers as he peppered the inner thighs with kisses, moving up slowly to lick a long strip on that bulbous cock. “Mark!” And like a reply, the man climbed back up the length of that splayed body to swallow that gasping breath, their tongues sliding slippery against each other, the sounds slick and lewd in the entire suite.

Jackson felt fingers brushing around his hole and bent his knees. “Come on,” he said, his voice now low and hoarse with hunger. “Come,” he said again, and this time, with his hands reaching to pull Mark’s arm (and Mark) towards (and into) him. 

The breach of the first finger drew a gasp from Jackson as he held onto those well-defined shoulders. Watching Jackson’s face flush a beautiful red, Mark, holding himself up with one arm, could feel the heat rising up from that feverish wanton body to burn at his skin. It was almost unbearable how he could no longer think of anything else except to marvel at the magnificence before him and wonder at the poverty of words. Twisting in a second finger, Mark felt the soft snug walls that encircled his fingers burned in him the promise of ecstasy and heaven. It was so hot and so warm and Mark could feel the perspiration beading down the back of his neck.

Jackson’s hands ran feverishly all around Mark, from his shoulders to his chest, to the scars on his back and then up again, leaving behind a coolness that chased wherever those hands had just left. Mark crooked his three fingers and immediately he felt Jackson’s hands still and grip him tighter. “Oh god, oh god,” Jackson moaned. “There, there, again, please!” 

And so Marked circled the little nub before pressing gently at first then rubbing again, teasing, and – 

“No, no, please! Just come in already, please I beg you,” Jackson cried out. He pulled Mark down on him completely. “Come,” he said, kissing the sweaty temples of this man whom he wanted to be completely taken apart by. “Come,” he begged again. 

Mark reached blindly for the box of condoms and hastily tore one open with his teeth. Rolling it on quickly, he gripped his cock and wasted no time. 

The first push and Mark was almost a third in. Jackson squeezed his eyes as he bit on the skin of his hand. Reaching for the lube, Mark poured a lot more on his cock and spread it around the puckered hole which was now stretched tight around him. The sight of Jackson’s body opening up to him, the mottled patches of pink erupting like blooming roses on his skin, and that face so lost in passion – the sight of it _all_ – had Mark choking. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice raw and hoarse. 

Jackson flushed deeper and a small shy smile creeped onto his face. “You must say that to everybody you go to bed with.”

Mark leaned down to kiss him gently on the lips. “Hardly anyone is as beautiful as you are right now.” Then, quietly, he angled his hips and push the rest of the way in, swallowing the gasp from those red-bitten lips. Mark licked up the now exposed arch of Jackson’s neck, placing soft kisses along the way. His hips drove like a piston into that tight heat, slow, and steady, and brushing that one sweet spot always. 

Jackson cried out, the entire mass of his existence now concentrated in his loins. It was maddening, it was excruciating, it was exquisite. Jackson reached between his legs and began to touch himself, eager for release, only to find his hands slapped away. “That’s mine,” Mark growled. He gripped the leaking cock and rubbed at the slit, smearing the precum all over. 

“Please, please,” Jackson whined. “I want to come, oh god, please!” 

Mark began jerking Jackson’s cock tighter as his hips drove in faster, harder. The sounds of harsh panting and skin slapping against skin colored the room with a fogginess where the only thing clear was the heat and the feel of blood rushing inwards; because no one could tell anymore where their bodies began or ended and Mark, and Jackson, their bodies conjoined together like a single entity, the slow and sure collision of two stars, like a stellar explosion, the mad glittering of a cosmic dust, a new star…

“Jackson!”

*

“Will you believe me if I said that was the best sex I ever had in the 26 years of my entire life?” 

Mark laughed and squeezed Jackson’s nose playfully. “I don’t know whether to believe half the things you say, honestly.” 

Jackson chuckled in acquiescence and snuggled back into the warm arms of his very fine lover. They had fell asleep shortly after climax and were now in the Jacuzzi, waiting for room service to arrive. 

Jackson toyed with the arm that was holding him, running his fingers across a scar the reached from wrist to elbow. “How did this happen?” 

“Knife wound.”

“Mm,” Jackson replied noncommittally. “What about this one?” he asked, turning to point to the one on Mark’s side. It was a web of scars that span from just below his ribs to his hips, and much of it was still red and raw looking.

“Bomb blast.”

Jackson turned quietly to straddle Mark’s lap. “Does it hurt?”

“Sometimes,” Mark said, and kissed those pouting lips gently.

Jackson sighed and leaned his head on those shoulders he had grown quickly to like very much. “Are you the mafia, Mark?”

“You would wish, huh,” Marks said, laughing quietly. 

“Yea,” Jackson nodded, as he drew empty circles on Mark’s chest. “It would be like those stories, you know, where the leading man is a mafia boss with his big long black coat, tuxedo, and sunglasses. And I would be the lover he hides away for their protection but who will eventually be found out and abused by his enemies. Mm, then the mafia boss fights everybody and everything in his way to rescue his lover, even going as far as to cut ties with all his allies because he can’t trust them. He gets hurt and badly battered along the way, that poor thing… But he eventually makes it out alive to save his lover. They embrace each other tightly at the scene, kissing and crying at the same time, all of the pain and joy at reuniting with each other… Unbearable…”

Mark who had been listening bemusedly the whole time looked down at the sudden quietness of the man in his arms. “Then what happens?” he asked.

In reply, Jackson raised his arms to hug Mark completely, mimicking the embrace of his story. When he spoke, Jackson’s voice was soft against the gentle bubbling lull of the Jacuzzi. “As they embrace, a bullet comes and pierces through their bodies, first through the lover and then the mafia boss. The boss cries at failing to protect his lover but is eventually consoled that at least they can be together forever now. They hold each other like they always had and together, with a smile only for each other, they take their last breath.”

The silence that followed echoed almost like the ring of the bullet that killed the lovers. Mark turned to kiss those temples, feeling the wet hair and soft skin beneath his lips. “What is it you do, Jackson, that makes me want to keep you safe away from this world?” 

“I don’t know,” Jackson said, pouting again. “People have said that I look like a puppy though.” 

Mark laughed delightedly, a sound that chased away much of the somber mood. “Now that you said it, I can see the resemblance!”

Jackson smiled cheekily at that. “Woof!”

* 

It was glorious, Jackson thought. Sex, tub, bed, and then more sex, the tub, and the bed. Food whenever they felt like it, snuggles whenever he felt like it, cuddles whenever Mark felt like it. They watched movies on the television, watched people from the balcony, and watched the moons and the stars because they wanted to and it was beautiful. They ordered chocolate and champagne because it sounded perfectly decadent as they lounged on the couch at 3 in the afternoon. Then, because Jackson was feeling peckish again, they ordered in sushi which Jackson proceeded to eat every single bit off the ripped toned body of his fine-looking lover. 

Mornings were especially good when the sunlight flitted in through the light blowing fabric of the curtains, illuminating the sharp lines of Mark’s gorgeous face. Jackson would gently trace those handsome features with his fingers, running them down the bridge of the nose, and then to those cupid-bow lips, the shade of red so much like the color of a beautiful sin done. Jackson was lost in the magic of mornings. Then Mark would open his eyes one morning to kiss him tenderly, gently, then making love to him in the slowest and at the most agonizing of speeds; and it hurt, hurt so good that Jackson couldn’t move after, unable and unwilling to. And Jackson could not stop touching him. He climbed into his lap, tangled their limbs, and once, jumped onto his back from the bed and made Mark carry him to the tub. And when Mark dropped to his knees and blew him after he tipped the room service, Jackson knew he was lost beyond hope as his entire body slumped to the floor, heavy with wine, affection, and the aftermath of a sweet mind-blowing orgasm. 

“I can’t anymore,” Jackson said, as he laid kisses on Mark’s face in between of feeding him from a seafood platter. “I feel like I have used up all the happiness allotted to me for this year and the next and I’m probably going to regret this when it all ends.”

And Mark said nothing except to return each and every one of those kisses and more. That night, they cuddled tightly under the duvet, every bit of their skin touching, rubbing. And Jackson found himself humming a new melody, one that filled the air like a golden ribbon, dancing, sparkling, and twinning together their bodies and the many things unspoken.

It was fate, Jackson thought idly. It was all fate.

*

And while Jackson may have expected reality to return anytime soon, he was still not quite prepared when upon hearing a loud rude banging on the door, Mark grabbed him and rolled over to crouch beside the bed. Mark’s eyes were blazing and alert and Jackson felt a moment of genuine fear as strong tense arms held him down. 

“Jackson! Jackson Wang Jia Er, you piece of shit. Open up!” 

“What?!” Jackson blinked in surprise. Tugging at Mark, Jackson whispered, “It’s okay, let me up.” 

Mark glanced at him for what seemed like a minute before moving aside to help Jackson up. 

“Jackson!” The voice behind the door sounded again. “If you had any bit of sense left you would open up this door right this instant because I’m this close to murdering you, you bastard.”

Jackson scrunched up his face in distaste as he put on a bathrobe. “I don’t know why you always insist on making a fuss so early in the morning, Henry,” he said as he pulled the door open.

“Well, I wouldn’t if you weren’t always jumping from one pot of shit to another!”

“Gods, Henry, it’s too early for your scatological humour. Breakfast?” Then, turning to the man who had been standing silent by the bed. “Breakfast, baby?” 

Mark nodded as he stood observing the man who was apparently called Henry. The man was of slight build and was dressed in what looked to Mark like expensive clothes as well, though the mess of hair that was peeking out from under his cap seemed to suggest a careless attitude towards his appearance. Or maybe that was because he was in a rush, as was evident in his rude intrusion into the suite this morning. 

“Do you want to explain what is going on right now, Jackson? Or should I start guessing?” Henry asked when Jackson was done with the phone. There was a man standing in nothing but his underwear and staring at him like he was prey; Henry most assuredly did not appreciate it at all.

Jackson threw Mark a bathrobe which the latter caught singlehandedly. “Mark, meet Henry, the most annoying person on earth. Henry, meet Mark, the most beautiful person I’ll ever know on earth. There, introductions done. Now to wait for breakfast!”

Henry’s hands which were stuck on his hips since he came to stand in the doorway, now rose to cut the air in angry heavy gestures. Jackson was unaffected however, as he took Mark’s hand and led him to the dining table. “Come and sit down, Henry. You will never get anywhere otherwise.”

Henry dragged the chair noisily and sat heavily across Jackson. Knowing Jackson, he could wait for his answers but Henry was seriously not in the mood. “You take off without telling anyone, switch off your phone for days, ignore all your emails, and disregard the schedule we had so meticulously put together for you, and to all your many special requests, mind you! Then, just as we were panicking if you had perhaps seriously got into trouble, some reporter calls us up to ask what you were doing at the Ritz. Jackson Wang, I know you don’t really care about all these, but have you any idea, _any at all_ , about the amount of inconvenience you caused for us? Or for me? Because you know what, NBS is pretty much done with you now. They couldn’t be bothered anymore and I cannot even beg them to reconsider because they are not even answering my phone calls now. That’s it, you know. They are done with you! So, Jackson Wang. You better have a very good explanation ready because I’m about to lose my shits if you don’t.”

Jackson was quiet and strangely calm as he looked at the irate man in front of him. It wasn’t difficult at all, he thought. No, in fact, he found it surprisingly easy. “I quit,” he said. “I’m sorry. But I quit.”

Henry breathed heavily at that. “No, you don’t get to quit, you fucker. You are under a fucking contract and you don’t get to quit.” He watched Jackson shrugged insouciantly and took another heavy breath. 

“Look Jackson, listen. What is it? What do you want me to do, hmm? Because I’ve tried my very best to make this as easy as I can for you. And you may not believe it but I still care for you as a friend. You like music. Music is your life! You don’t just quit your life like this!” 

Jackson sighed. “I’m tired, Henry. Very, very tired. It’s starting to become less of the music and more of how funny I am on a show or how I look in the latest fashion and stuff. I know, I know,” Jackson said when he saw Henry making to rebut. “I know it’s all part of the job and that I probably contributed to it as well, but… I don’t know. Where do you draw the line between the expression of who I am and the performance of who they think I am? Because Henry, I don’t know anymore…”

Mark, who had been listening silently, turned to kiss Jackson on his cheek, uncaring of who might see and all. “There was a knock on the door just now,” he informed Jackson quietly. “I’m going to get the room service.” 

Jackson nodded and nuzzled into his hand before letting him up. 

“Who is he?” Henry asked, once said person left the room.

“I told you. Mark.”

Henry sighed again, exasperated. “You know what I’m asking, Jackson.” 

The sounds of a trolley cart came and breakfast was quickly laid out for three on the table. Mark tipped the waiters and took back his seat. “I didn’t think it was that obvious,” he said, when he saw the eggs done sunny side up on his plate. 

Jackson smiled fondly at him. “You do that slight wide-eyed look and your lips curl up a little by the ends. It’s really cute.” 

Mark laughed and gave him a kiss. “You are the sweetest, baby.”

Henry cleared his throat. “Sorry, but do you mind introducing yourself because this fellow here sure isn’t sharing,” he said, looking pointedly at Jackson who was now scrutinizing the amount of salt and pepper on his scrambled eggs. 

“I don’t blame him,” Mark said.

“Henry,” Jackson mock whispered suddenly. “Mark’s the mafia. Be careful what you are asking!”

Henry’s eyes widened comically, causing Jackson to burst into fits of laughter and Mark to look amusedly between the two of them. 

“I’m with the army,” Mark said, as the laughter died down and Henry looked more and more incensed. “Jackson wasn’t able to tell you because we haven’t talked about it yet.”

“Well, but I would have guessed it sooner or later, anyway,” Jackson said, sulkily. “What did you thought I was doing for a living, anyway?” 

“Hmm, I thought maybe you were a secret prince from some faraway land.”

And Jackson broke once again into merry laughter, his joy clear in the screechy sounds that Mark had come to love very much.

Henry snorted. “Well, prince sounds about right, considering how spoiled he is.” Henry pushed his plate of scrambled eggs towards Jackson, opting to nurse his coffee instead. “Which club were you both at when you met? Did you check if you were being followed? You know I’ve always told you to be careful when you let loose for the night.”

“We didn’t meet at the club.” / “I haven’t been to the clubs here, Henry.”

“Right,” Henry said, as he watched them look at each other smilingly, clearly in their own unspoken conversation. He rapped the table impatiently. 

“Well,” Jackson drawled teasingly. “It was three days ago…”

“He jumped into a lake.”

“He saved me.”

“And then he invited me up here.”

“And we never left.”

Henry stared disbelievingly at the two of them. “And so you just stayed here and have sex for three days with someone you hardly know?!” 

Jackson laughed. “Would meeting at the club make this story more likely?”

“Nah, it doesn’t have the type of drama you like and I wouldn’t have been able to show off my physical prowess in the wild.” Mark deadpanned.

“Yes!” Jackson screeched happily. “Come here, let me kiss you!”

And Henry was torn between the impulse to scream at them and to laugh scathingly at their ridiculousness. A part of him was also slowly running through the fact that Jackson jumped into a lake. He knew Jackson was upset but he had no idea it would be expressed in something so drastic. Did he really wanted to kill himself? Did Henry pushed too much? Had he been this remiss in being the friend they started out as?

Yet, looking at the two men in front of him, Henry didn’t know what to think. When he couldn’t get in contact with Jackson after five days, Henry was genuinely afraid he had lost his friend for good. He tried to keep everything under wraps as far as possible, going as far as to send an empty car to Jackson’s apartment and having some in his stable of artistes corroborate for the presence of the missing man through social media. And this was all really because Henry knew that Jackson loved music. With the way the industry worked, having a good reputation was important in selling music; there was no way around it. Henry also knew that Jackson loved the spotlight, and no, to be more exact, Henry thought Jackson practically lived to be adored. And precisely so, Henry dared not imagine how Jackson would survive should the media started turning against him. Each day he could not get in contact with Jackson was a day of extreme worry, stress, and frustration. 

But did Jackson knew? Henry laughed bitterly. How would he know when all Henry did was push and push at his friend? Henry sighed and shook his head resignedly. He truly no longer know anymore.

“Hey,” Jackson said, his foot prodding Henry’s socked feet from under the table. “What’s up with you? You know I’m sorry, right? Surely you are not still angry?” 

“Ka-ka,” he called, the syllables almost foreign on his tongue now. Henry cringed inwards when he saw Jackson froze upon hearing his old nickname. Perhaps he no longer had permission to call him by that name, Henry thought. “Jackson,” Henry tried again. “Do you really want to quit?”

Jackson remained still for a long while, his eyes fixed on Henry’s. “You’ll let me go?”

“I don’t wish to. But, yes, if you truly wanted it.”

“Why?”

“Because I just remembered how much of a failure as a friend I’ve been to you, Jackson. And this might be the one last thing I can give to you.”

And in a move that nobody was expecting, Jackson dropped his cutlery and threw his napkin at Henry. “Fuck you, Henry. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to decide anything for me!” 

“I’m not, Jackson. I swear I’m not,” Henry said pleadingly. “I don’t want you to go. I know how much your career means to you, regardless of how you hate it at times. I know what it means for you and your music. I know, Jackson, I know. I just… I just forgotten that behind the smiling joking face you put on every day is that tender heart of yours, the very same heart that wrote all that beautiful music back then. And I… I forgotten to protect it. I forgot to protect the heart of our dream and it’s inexcusable. I’m sorry, Jackson. Really, I’m sorry.”

Jackson was shaking, fists clenched tight and eyes staring furious at the man across him. There was a moment where Mark wanted desperately to take the man into his arms and to soothe away those angry lines on his face. Yet, regardless of the short time that they had gotten to know each other, Mark knew for certain that such an action would not be appreciated. Jackson was at his core right now and to imagine that Mark could tame the fire that was raging with a cuddle would be most imperious. 

Because Jackson had been nothing but always in control. He fell into the lake because he wanted to and knew he could pick himself up, if he wanted to. He knew that trusting himself to a stranger was dangerous, but Jackson also knew that he could afford the risks. Jackson saw the odds and he played the game. There was nothing capricious about Jackson in the way Henry thought, no. If Jackson was whimsical, it was only because he _dared_ to afford it. And if this didn’t spell out the strength that laid out the core of Jackson, Mark didn’t know what else might. 

“Funny how you came in with quite a different attitude, huh,” Jackson remarked coldly. “Was it hearing how I jumped into a lake? Well, let’s be clear, Mr. Lau. I wasn’t trying to kill myself. I just felt like a dip, how’s that?

“And you tell me you’re sorry, but you know what, Henry? You are not sorry. You are just only coming to the realization that you fucked up. And I don’t care. I really don’t. Because you were the one who fucked up our relationship. And I stopped caring much too early. 

“And yes, you are right. I don’t really want to quit however much I hate this job. There’s no shame in admitting that I’m an attention whore. I like it! But if I’m to continue this with you, know this, I want to rewrite our contract. I get to decide what I want to do, how I want to do it, and when. And if that is not okay with you, fine, I’ll quit. Bring on the lawsuits. I don’t care. I can easily seek attention elsewhere. Attention whores like me will always come out alright. No big deal!”

And there was really nothing left to say anymore. All that regret filling his head now could do nothing for Henry in this situation. He had done this all by himself. He couldn’t even muster any bit of that righteous anger he had earlier. It was no longer his place. He turned to look at the wide windows by the side of the room, seeing their stalemate reflected on the clear glass. And as he spied the unmade bed that Jackson had disappeared to for the past few days, he felt the painful steel clasps around his heart release. 

“Jackson Wang,” Henry said in a clear voice. “As of this moment now, your contract will be suspended until further notice. You can choose to terminate your contract should you want to; on my word, clauses on willful and abrupt termination will not be valid in this case. Alternatively, you can choose to renegotiate the terms of your contract. Should that be the case, please be at the office this Monday at 9am sharp. You may bring in your team of consulting lawyers should you so wish to.” 

Then, with a new softness in his eyes, he stood up from his seat. “I’m really sorry for what I’ve done to us, Jackson. And I can only wish that you will give me a chance to do right by you now.” Then, towards Mark, he nodded slightly. “Sorry to have interrupted breakfast, but I will be leaving now. Thank you for saving him even though he probably didn’t need it. It allowed him to meet you and I’m somewhat glad for that.” 

He pushed his seat back in, his eyes now on the still unmoving Jackson. Perhaps one last apology was on his tongue, or perhaps it was him wanting to say how glad he was that Jackson was at least okay. But Henry didn’t know if both were true and he could not bring himself to say either. There will never be a last apology, especially not for what he had done and was Jackson really okay? Henry could no longer tell. He gripped the back of the chair he had just pushed in and swallowed all the things he longed to say. And with the only thing he was could still say, Henry spoke: “Hope to see you on Monday, Jackson.” 

*

The sounds of the door hitting shut echoed in the quiet suite. Mark watched, mesmerized, as the man in the chair beside him began to shutter himself up bit by bit. He could not imagine how much experience this man had with his inner world to be able to open and shut it the way he did. Then again, Mark realized belatedly, this was a man living half his life in front of the camera. If it wasn’t by choice, then surely circumstances would have trained him well. 

Perhaps that was the draw of Jackson, Mark thought, this intelligence and amazing ability to be so transparent as to be opaque. And when Jackson begged each time while in his arms, perhaps it was not so much a plea to be taken but a plea to be contained as he takes himself apart completely. And Mark adored that adroitness with which Jackson held himself. Here was a man who was strong, in control, and who chose Mark to unclothe completely his entirety to. And Mark could not feel any more in love than he was at that moment. 

“What?” Jackson asked laughingly when he turned to find Mark smiling stupidly at him. “Did it scare you that much? You are supposed to be the mafia, you know? Your smiling is really not helping.”

“I love you,” Mark said, still grinning. 

“Really?” Jackson chuckled as he then proceeded to climb into Mark’s lap. “What of me do you love, hmm?”

“You just slaughtered a fire-breathing dragon over breakfast. What’s there not to love?” 

“Oh, you silly romantic. Did it get you all hot and bothered? Can I do anything to help?”

Mark kissed him on the forehead, his eyes, his nose, and then his lips. “Yes,” he said. “Be mine.”

Jackson brushed gently at Mark’s hair. “Do you know what you are saying, baby?”

“Yea.”

“You are in the army and I’m some hot shot celebrity in some other part of the world. You get shot by bullets and I get shot by paparazzi. Hmm, we both lead quite extraordinary lives, it seems.”

“Yea,” Mark said, his voice muted by the nape he was nuzzling at. 

“Will we get lots of Skype sex?”

“Yea.”

“Will you come visit me when you are on leave?”

“Yea.”

“Will we have lots of sex and not leave our room for three days when that happens?”

“Yea.”

Jackson laughed and lifted the face that was busy gnawing at his collarbones to look at him. “Baby, I’m being serious here.”

And Mark grinned wider. “Yea.”

And Jackson shook his head exasperatedly. “What’s your rank, soldier?” 

“Captain.”

Jackson raised his eyebrows, impressed. “Well, what are you waiting for now?” he said saucily and brought his arms around the neck of the man who was now his. 

“Take me to bed, Captain.”

“Gladly, baby. Gladly.”

**Author's Note:**

> Mark really strikes me as someone quite suited to the army. If instructions were given, you know he will be the one following it to a tee. And this re-imagining of my boy as someone older and as a solider was a plot bunny that refused to go away. However, because I don't really want to delve into or make light of the serious issues in this real world, I opted to use completely fictionalized places so as to avoid naming any wars. It also gave me the freedom to build this parallel world where only the characters and their stories matter. That being said, inside jokes of the fandom are not exempted. You may spot one or two of them in the story, or you know, maybe in the title. But if you don't, don't worry about it. It's probably just my fail delivery.
> 
> In any case, I still have two or three more plot bunnies in this AU to round up. Not sure when they will be done as fanfic writing is mostly an exercise for when the writing block on my other projects happen. So fingers crossed that it will be not be too long. And _my_ fingers crossed in hope that you have at least enjoyed this read. Cheers.


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